


A View from the Mountains: Soaring Above Deep Waters - Chapter One

by Maple_Tartan



Series: A View from the Mountains: Tales of the Avvar [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Avvar, Circle Tower, Gen, Gods, Kinloch Hold, Mages, Shapeshifter, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple_Tartan/pseuds/Maple_Tartan
Summary: The first part in a tale of the Avvar making a path of their own. A lone wanderer takes a visit to Kinloch Hold, now abandoned since the Mage Uprising and meets its new hosts.Note: The rest of the story has been written, just being tweaked about. Might be a little rough, been sitting on this for awhile, just needed to get it out there. Thank you for the consideration.





	

Snow whistled through the Frostback Mountains like a terrified flock of birds. Rankys marched along in the form of a lynx, his paws lightly crunching the snow beneath. He’d been walking for days, spending his time lingering amongst his thoughts. He explored the sorrow of losing the only friend he’s had for years and how, now, he was on his own again.

While introspectively contemplating his life, a cave appeared in the distance, a welcome sight for a weary soul. Rankys dragged his drained body to the earthen stronghold, days of walking finally catching up with him. When he found his way to the centre of the small cavern, he closed his eyes for the first time in a week and slept.

In his slumber, Rankys entered the Fade. Everything seemed as though he had naturally awoken, still within the small cave. Breaching to the outside, however, he discovered a new land, with lush forests and towering mountains clear of snow but with a jade, swirling sky. Rankys walked to the mountains, his home. He arrived at the base of a smaller one and noticed something peculiar. 

The mountain rose and fell slowly as if it were breathing. He backed away and looked up to see that what he thought was a mountain was the massive bear god, Sigfrost. The beast had black eyes and thick brown fur that was spotted with white at his paws. It slowly rose, causing the land itself to shake. The god immediately saw the Avvar, the human just staring back at him, only breaking this gaze to notice the massive amount of bones that lay strewn beneath the hulking beast. Rankys’ expression turned from excitement to dread, remembering the tales of Sigfrost devouring the unworthy. 

The god sensed the sudden shift of fear in Rankys and lowered his snout to meet the Avvar’s. Their eyes looked into each other's, mere inches apart. Sigfrost inhaled deeply and roared so fiercely that mountains crumbled and massive trees were uprooted, sent spiraling through the air. Rankys managed to keep his ground, digging his heels and braving the blast of the bear’s roar. In a world where will controls all, Rankys held his own. He looked back to Sigfrost and took the opportunity to prove himself. 

He shifted into his bear form, feeling small for the first time. Rising on his hind legs, he reached nearly the height of Sigfrost’s head before taking in a deep breath. When his paws landed in the grass again, releasing a ferocious roar. His roar imitated Sigfrost’s, toppling trees and shaking the mountains. Sigfrost dug his claws in as Rankys did and withstood the force of the howl.

The Avvar knew of the great fountain of knowledge Sigfrost possessed and how he gifted drops of it to those it found worthy. He hoped to have passed the god’s test, not only for the purpose of learning but to survive.

Sigfrost brought forth his spotted paw and outstretched a long claw. He gracefully placed its tip onto Rankys’ forehead. His mind was opened to a vision of a sword sprouting from a pool of water. The sword had a shimmering blade of ice with a falcon perched on its tip. The bird spread its wing and cried out, causing the sword to shatter while it dove back into the water below. Sigfrost removed his claw from Rankys’ head, ending the vision.

Rankys stood wide-eyed, “Thank you.” he managed to utter. He was confused and lost but didn’t want to start questioning the god. The Fade began to unravel as Sigfrost turned away from him. As the great beast walked away, a darkness wrapped behind it and when all light was gone, Rankys awoke to a new day. 

The sun shone brightly in the morning sky, casting heat upon the melting snow. He left the cave to see water dripping from the immense evergreens and the sounds of birds calling. Seeing the beautiful conditions of the day, Rankys stretched for a moment then started a run. He then dove straight into the air, shifting into a large hawk. Normally, his shapeshifting had an appearance of a blinding light, however this time, the process was marked by a small puff of black smoke. He felt his senses heightened and that his body was simply stronger than usual. He flew over the trees and could see far into the distance. The lowlands had already lost its thin layer of snow and appeared as a vast field of green. Lake Calenhad bordered the emerald expanse that was the Ferelden Hinterlands. Rankys flew to the lake and scanned the water, searching for prey. He spotted his mark and dropped like a stone. His talons wrapped around the fish’s core and dug into its scaled flesh. Seizing the fish, he flew to the beaches along the lake and began picking at his breakfast, tearing the scales apart to reach the meat inside. 

As the enjoyed his catch, he heard the sounds of construction. Lifting his head, he looked to Kinloch Hold, that stood alone in the expanse of water. He looked to the bridge connecting the hold to land and saw the ruined infrastructure teeming with workers. Curious of what was underway, he swiftly finished his meal and shifted to human once again. He dug his staff into the soft earth and lifted himself from a seated position. Walking close, he could see that the workers were all dwarves and they had nearly finished their reconstruction of the path.

One of the dwarves saw him approaching and called back to the others. They nodded and continued their work. When Rankys reached the bridge, the dwarf was the first to approach him.

“You must be from the mountains, the boss said to let you lot in.” she said, turning and walking to the tower. The dwarf cited Rankys’ tattoos as being distinctly non-Fereldan and his appearance to separate him from other ne'er-do-wells. Rankys followed the dwarven worker to the tower’s entrance. She knocked on the door twice, paused for a moment, then knocked three more times, and used the knocker once.

The dwarf then left Rankys returned to construction. After an instant, the doors slowly opened to reveal the inside of Kinloch Hold. He was met by a middle-aged man who smiled to greet him.

“Welcome to our new hold, kinsmen. Clamain would want to see you, follow me.” said the man, turning his back to Rankys. Rankys followed him and took in the decor of the tower. Most of the walls seemed to have been recently rebuilt and were adorned with many statues, except for the spots where the pedestals laid bare. The statues often depicted a woman holding a shield, a bowl, or even a sword. Walking by the library, Rankys noticed that all the books were removed from their shelves and neatly organized in piles on the tables. The number of books on the tables could not nearly fill the shelves. Chests and other storage crates had all been broken open or filled with new goods. The people of the tower were busily buzzing about, moving the goods around and working cohesively like a hivemind. The main element of the tower that Rankys noticed was the strong sense of magic, that the Veil was thin all around him.

Eventually, they reached the fourth level of the tower and now they stood outside another door, waiting for the noises coming from within to die down. The man knew not to interrupt so he stood a few paces from the door and waited patiently. Rankys followed his lead. After some time, the door opened and a woman stepped out. She had fiery red hair, a bow strung over her shoulder, and a quiver on her belt. She muttered a greeting to the man Rankys had followed and was then on her way. Rankys wished to say something but rather held his tongue and followed his guide inside.

“We have a new visitor.” said the man, presenting Rankys to Clamain. Clamain was an impressive man who looked like he could wrestle an enraged druffalo. He stood slightly taller than average height but had an extremely wide chest. He had long blond hair that was braided together in the back. His facial features demonstrated how he was battle-hardened and he was wearing thick tanned leathers. His sword and shield laid against the strong oak desk in which he sat behind. The room itself seemed to have been stripped bare and now little lined the elaborate decor.

“So, I presume you are another messenger from the clans? What is your name.” he said, standing to greet the stranger.

“Rankys Ar Mortil O Wyvern.” responded Rankys, standing tall and proud.

“O Wyvern? That clan died out centuries ago, betraying the gods. Why carry the title of fools?” replied Clamain, approaching Rankys with a threatening demeanor.

“I descend from the few of my clan who did not abandon our Father. I carry the title for I am the last of my name.” said Rankys after a few moments, hiding nothing. Clamain, now directly in front of Rankys, grabbed his left arm and turned it about to see his tattoos. His tattoos were of black wyverns that span the length of this arms. Clamain admired the work and gave Rankys a look of admiration.

“Sorry for the suspicions, can never be too safe as of recent. Seeing as you are the last of your clan, you are clearly not a messenger. Why have you come?” said Clamain, accepting Rankys’ story, for now, no thane truly knew more of clan Wyvern beyond they abandoned Korth and their hold was last seen infested with birds.

“I heard the construction of the dwarf’s outside and grew curious, I had thought this place abandoned.” said Rankys. This was not completely true. In reality, he knew the tower was once a Circle and he presumed that even after their annulment that some mages would seek refuge there. 

“Ah, you are ignorant of our cause. We are clan Flameborn and we have come to reclaim our territory from the wretched lowlanders. This is Kinloch Hold, an ancient fortress that once belonged to us. We stood strong against Tevinter until eventually falling to the damn bastards. After Tevinter left our lands, the lowlanders used this place to imprison their mages, storing them only for wars and exploitation. Now that they are free from this place, bandits had taken refuge here, until we came along. Damn marauders stood no chance against our steel.” said Clamain. As he told this tale, he paced back and forth, embellishing every word with dramatic movements. Rankys listened intently, remembering of the tales his parents once told him of the hold and the ancient times.

“How have the lowlanders answered your clan?” said Rankys, piecing together the current situation.

“So far, nothing. We do not know why they wait but in the meantime, we profit from the plunder within these walls. You’d be surprised how much lowlanders pay for kindling.” said Clamain, picking up a thick tome off the desk. 

“Do you have a plan for their arrival? They are sure to come and from what I have seen, you ought to devise a plan for crossing the water.” said Rankys, now concerned.

“We have no need to run. We shall stand and fight.” said Clamain, offended by Rankys’ suggestion of retreat. “Go see our Augur, she is one floor above us. She will inform you of our ways. I have urgent business that needs tending.” continued Clamain, dismissing Rankys. Rankys left the room and as he did, he noticed a line of people waiting eagerly for the chief’s guidance.

The final floor of the tower had a tall ceiling with immense windows that poured in waves of light. The floor had rings with circles periodically dotted about them. The circles had runes inscribed on their bases and the rings eventually spiraled out to have fonts at their ends. At the centre of the room stood the Augur and large fire pit. The pit contained bones of the deceased and strange herbs that produced a blue flame. The Augur was clad in loose fitting robes similar to Rankys but clean and well kept along with a hood that shrouded her face. She saw Rankys enter the chamber and beckoned him to approach the flame. When he reached the pit, she raised her hands above her head and a gust of wind blew the smoke from the fire into the air, clouding Rankys’ vision. Once the smoke escaped through an opened hatch in the ceiling, Rankys saw six spirits that now joined them around the pit.

“The gods here have been clamoring to see you since they felt your presence.” said the Augur. Her hood had been blown back from the wind, revealing her face. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles along with one eye matching their tone and the other being bright green. Her hair was worn loose and unruly strands hung in front of her eyes. Now that the spirits had crossed the veil, they floated over to Rankys and examined his features, floating about him with curiosity. As they swirled around him, he felt the corrupted demons of the Fade pushing against the Veil, attempting to claw through the barrier.

“Give the man some space.” said the Augur. The spirits agreed and backed to where they first appeared. Rankys could now see them clearly. They all took the forms of humanoids from the waist up. It was near impossible to tell them apart by facial features, however, they differed greatly in colour. One was a deep red, not of rage but of strong passion. Another was a vibrant purple, one more a strong yellow. An intense green spirit floated higher than the rest, and an orange one was erratically looking around the room. Lastly, there was one of a pale blue hue whose back hunched forward, resembling that of an old man. 

“Mage, I sense something strange within you. Approach me.” said the Augur, extending her open palm into the air. Rankys obeyed and pressed his forehead to her hand, looming over the fire. After a short time, she took her hand from his face and looked into his eyes.

“You have not gone through mentoring of the gods. A god has never been invoked to tutor you in the ways of the arcane.” she said. Rankys moved back from her and explained how his wandering tribe never used spirits in rituals since they were always moving, never certain if the spirits they met were truly benevolent. The spirits that had been called upon floated close to him as he told the story.

“I understand. You’ve clearly survived without the direct help of the gods, yet you abandoned a right of passage of our people. The gods who reside here resisted the temptation of what happened here during the Fifth Blight, they are pure of intent. Come see me tonight, we will prepare the ritual for then.” said the Augur. The spirits vanished and the augur turned back to the fire. Rankys left the chamber and started down the stairs. His mind was clouded with many conflicting thoughts. The Augur had not presented an option to him which left him in the bind of not feeling prepared to accept a foreign entity into his mind but to disagree with an Augur is blasphemous. The concept itself never scared him and he always pictured the bond as a formation of friendship. However, now that he would be sharing his consciousness with a being he had never met, he was terrified of the possible outcomes. His mind was filled with horror stories of possessed mages and what they had done. One particular story of a child from Redcliffe stood prominently in his thoughts.

Being in deep thoughts on the future, he was not focusing on where he was walking. As he idly marched through the hall, he accidently collided harshly with the red-headed woman from earlier. She was nearly knocked to the ground and Rankys was snapped back to the present.

“Watch it you damn bronto!” said the woman, retrieving the books that flew from her arms.

“Oh, by the gods I am so sorry.” said Rankys, he bent over to help with the tomes but her deft hands had already retrieved them all.

“Wait, you’re the new mage that showed this morning. Word gets around about a giant with a fancy stick. I’m Leitis, what’s your story?” she said, now standing upright, holding her books to her chest. She was acting differently from before. When Rankys first saw her leave the chieftain's room, she seemed to be agitated, now she was welcoming and open.

“I’m Rankys, I saw that the tower had new occupants so I decided to make a visit.” responded Rankys, pushing thoughts of possession and gods away for a moment. He saved telling her his full story, deciding that it was not appropriate for casual conversation.

“Say, I’m busy right now but meet me at the front in a bit, I’ll introduce you to the boys. I feel like they’d like you.” and with that, she was off. Rankys now walked through the halls of the great tower with a smile, maybe the gods were not trying to ruin him. Now realising he was aimlessly wandering through the stone halls, he decided to wait at the front for Leitis to come.

As he waited, he watched the goods of the tower be moved and organized in the main hall. Boxes were delivered and inspected before being put in the appropriate place. Rankys noticed that the boxes were organized by what they contained; one area for books, another for broken and raw materials, and lastly one for trinkets of potential value. After awhile, men started arriving with pieces of statues. Some were delivered in full, as to keep their complete value, while some had to be broken into smaller pieces. The tribesman made jokes of the lowlanders faith, mocking their Maker and jeering of their prophetess.

After some time, Leitis arrived at the tower’s entryway with two other men in tow. She pointed to where Rankys stood against the wall and the three of them approached.

“You weren’t messin’ about!” said one of the men, scanning Rankys’ height.

“He’s the talk of the tower, you would know if you weren’t buried in those tunnels. Chattin’ with dwarves.” said the other.

“This is Tom and Sam, known each other forever.” said Leitis. The two introduced themselves to Rankys and himself in turn. Sam was shorter than Tom but broader at the shoulders. His hair was a dirty blond that was kept close shaved and Sam wore his brown hair loose.

“Let’s get down to the lake, my belly’s rumblin’.” said Leitis, already heading for the door. The men followed her out, Tom and Sam grabbed spears from the wall while Rankys brought his staff. The sun had already begun to set and cast a beautiful golden shimmer across the lake.

“Where you from?” asked Tom as they walked passed the dwarves who were packing their tools from the day’s work.

“The Frostbacks. My clan would wander along them, always on the move.” replied Rankys.

“And where’s your clan? You showed here alone.” interjected Sam.

“My clan was massacred.” said Rankys. He had decided to hold nothing from the people of the tower. It would be best to start honestly rather than deal with someone finding he descended from heretics.

“Heavy shit man, sorry. What of the killers?” asked Sam. Sam’s mind was quick for vengeance.

“Dead, by my hand.” said Rankys, with no hint of pride.

“Good, justice served.” said Sam, patting Rankys on the back.

“That’s the boat, time to go fishin’.” said Leitis, gesturing to a small rowboat, tied to a post along the shore. The boat was once used to ferry passengers to the tower. They all clambered in and managed to squeeze themselves together in the boat. As being at the rear, Rankys grabbed the paddles and began rowing into the water.

“Legend has it that this is where Belenas was until it was destroyed when Korth fought Nathramar. It is said the lake came when the Lady of the Skies cried at the loss of Belenas.” said Leitis, dragging a hand in the water as they rowed further into the lake.

“I was told that Belenas was lifted into the Land of the Dreams after humans climbed the mountain too often, aggravating the Mountain-Father.” retorted Rankys, still rowing.

“Fascinating, where was your tribe from?” said Leitis genuinely, turning to face the stranger.

“You may have heard of the ‘Sky Cult’. We hail from the Free Marches but those of us who remained loyal to our gods came to the Frostbacks after the Father took his revenge.”

Leitis stared into his eyes as he spoke, nodding along, intrigued.

“Stop, we’re at a good spot.” said Tom, interjecting as he grabbed his spear. Rankys pulled the paddles back into the boat and placed them where the spear had been. Sam grabbed his own spear and Leitis readied her bow.

“How do you plan on fishing with a staff?” asked Tom condescendingly. Rankys shot him a smile and stood. At this point, the boat was quite unbalanced, getting ready to capsize. He poised himself and dove off the boat before it flipped. In midair, he shifted into a hawk and flew over the boat, circling. The three of them looked up in awe at Rankys as he twirled above them. Now as a hawk, he began snatching fish from the water with ease. He would swoop low and drop the fish into the boat as he continued his flight. After some time, the boat was filled to the brim with fish and the three of them sat laughing at the predicament. Rankys flew higher and higher, seeing a beautiful view of the setting sun over the Ferelden Bannorn.

However, the sight was ruined by fires in the distance. Half a day’s march from the tower, was a large encampment. He did not know any details of the camp but he knew that nothing good could be headed for the tower. He swiftly brought himself down to the boat and perched on its tip. Leitis, Sam, and Tom tried talking to him but he cut them off with a shrill screech and thrust his wings at the shore line. They got the message and hastily rowed to the shore. Rankys had already flown to the beach and was waiting for them.

“Someone’s coming, I saw them camped to the east.” said Rankys as they stepped out of the boat.

“Go tell Clamain, we’ll warn the others.” said Leitis and they were off. Rankys swiftly climbed the tower and burst into Clamain’s office and spurted out what he saw before he could be interrupted.

“We knew they’d eventually come, rally the men.” said Clamain to the man who he was speaking to, previous to Rankys’ interruption.

“Leitis, Sam, and Tom are already telling everyone. They’ll be informed.” said Rankys, panting heavily.

“Tell them to meet me in the great hall.” said Clamain to his messenger right before the man left the room.

“The Augur told me you are to speak to her tonight, she told me not what it was for but I do not question her. Don’t let what you saw affect your time with the gods, we’ll be ready for them by tomorrow.” said Clamain, placing a heavy hand on Rankys’ shoulder as he led him out of the room. Now alone in the First Enchanter's chamber, he prepared for the worst.

Rankys went to the top of the tower and saw the Augur communing with the blue spirit from before. He approached the pit and stood across from her.

“Are you ready?” asked the Augur.

“As I will ever be.” responded Rankys, with a shaky smile. The approaching army managed to overshadow his current worries, or it had bogged him down to apathy.

“This will be your mentor.” said Augur as she walked around the fire to Rankys. The spirit descended from its height and faced Rankys. He looked into where its eyes would be and could make out little but an ancient complexion. The Augur then face Rankys and placed both her palms on his chest. He fell to the ground instantly, fast asleep. He later woke to the Fade.

It appeared differently from than it had with Sigfrost. The surrounding area did not form a physical world, such as mountains mountains and trees, but rather formed small islands. The islands floated in an empty abyss of green smoke and mist. They were all black with jagged stalagmites shooting from the surfaces. On the island with Rankys, stood an ancient man. He was a solid figure that glowed blue and had sapphire smoke falling off him. He wore a pale navy robe that hung loose from his wrists and dragged along the ground with ancient symbols adorned upon it. Rankys recognized some as heraldry of the Avvarian gods while the rest were a mystery.

“Welcome to the realm of dreams.” it said, maintaining a neutral expression.

“I am familiar.” said Rankys, observing his surroundings.

“I have lived in this tower for ages. I have seen darkness corrupt hundreds of souls and abominations roam wild. I am a god of wisdom. I shall guide and mentor you. I can sense that you already grasp much of the arcane arts. But, it is also clear that you require counsel in matters outside of magic. I have been watching your people and a judicious mind will be needed for what is to come. As bound together, you can help yourself and save your people.” said the spirit, speaking in a soft cadence, pausing often. He stood a meter from Rankys and extended his hand forward. Rankys reached out and accepted him. When their hands touched, Rankys felt safe and comforted. From the hand, they pulled each other together. Their bodies merged and for a moment, Rankys’ eyes glowed a bright blue. The spirit swiftly exited his body and returned to standing across from him. “We are now bound to one another, in mind and body. Wake.” said the spirit, showing Rankys. He fell backwards, falling down an empty abyss before jolting awake.

When he opened his eyes he could see that light poured from the hatch on the ceiling of the chamber. He also saw the Augur standing over him. She helped him up and smiled at him.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“I feel good... As if I have a presence constantly there, protecting me.” said Rankys, realising that he now felt empowered rather than controlled.

“Excellent! I’d love to talk to you about this entire experience, however, Clamain needs us. He’s called for all capable fighters to amass by the bridge.” said the Augur. She turned away from Rankys and grabbed her staff. Her staff was of oak wood that splintered off into small branches as it reached its end. The branches were as black as night with burn marks covering them. Rankys took his own warped rosewood staff and followed the Augur out of the chamber. 

They arrived at the second floor balcony and lined with Leitis and the other archers to view the scene below. The bridge from the tower to the mainland was covered barricades formed from crisscrossed wooden spikes, rendering any charge from horseback impossible. The narrow path from the bridge eliminated any advantage of numbers and the stone was covered in thick tar. On land, an army of soldiers clad in shining armour stood in rows for leagues into the distance. Banners flying Fereldan heraldry dotted the landscape. Quarter way on the bridge, Avvar lined the thin causeway. The Avvar at the front had wooden shields and wore thick leather hides while those behind held spears. At the front of each army stood a unique face. At the front of the Avvar was Clamain, who could be singled out by his metal shield and steel helmet. On the opposing side, stood tall a man in golden armour. The man walked ahead of his army to meet the spiked barricades, lifting his feet high from the tar. He dropped his sword and placed it infront of him, obviously showing he seeked peace. The Avvar remained in a prepared stance.

Suddenly, Rankys’ head was filled with whispers from the spirit of wisdom. He listened before swiftly abandoning the balcony and flying down to Clamain.

“Don’t.” he said into Clamain’s ear.

“If do not wish to see bloodshed, you should join the lowlanders in their cities and hide behind their walls, shivering in fear like children.” said Clamain, keeping his gaze forward. Rankys stepped around Clamain and stood facing him, exposing his back to the lowlanders.

“That is Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden. He is a man who wishes to avoid pointless deaths and is offering to negotiate.” said Rankys, sternly. Clamain stood and looked to Rankys, centimetres from his face.

“I will not simply hand over what I have claimed for my people, this is no time to talk.” said Clamain, reaching out to move Rankys. Rankys caught his hand and held it tightly.

“If you don’t talk, he will starve you out. He may wish to avoid the bloodshed of your people, but he will definitely choose to keep his own safe. Will you be unwilling to speak when your own are butchering one another for their next meal?” asked Rankys.

Clamain reflected for a moment, weighing the options before concluding that he’d rather hurt his pride than be cursed upon the dying breaths of his tribe. He removed his helmet and stepped around Rankys, approaching Alistair. The king also removed his helm, exposing his pale skin and light brown hair. Clamain responded by dropping his sword on Alistairs. Alistair then removed his gauntlet and extended his hand. Having no gauntlet to remove, Clamain simply reached out and grasped Alistair’s forearm and the two shook. 

Audible grumbles and gasps could be heard on both sides. The Fereldans saw this as weakness to tribal raiders while the Avvar ached to shed the blood of the lowlanders.

“Follow me to my tent. We can negotiate there.” said Alistair.

“Don’t think me the fool boy, we exchange men for faith of my safe return.” said Clamain, not ecstatic with the king.

“Okay, pick your people, I will choose mine.” said Alistair, matching Clamain’s tone. The two turned face and came back to their own sides. Clamain was furiously beat with accusations and questions of kneeling to the lowlanders. He justified his methods with the advice Rankys had told him, leaving out the part where he got this advice from a newcomer and outsider. Most of his people accepted the reasoning while some were blinded by their need to shed blood. Alistair was met with the same accusations but to the mountain tribes. He responded that the Avvar may have supply tunnels linked under the tower, especially since they saw dwarven workers, therefore it would take forever to siege the place and it would be impossible to storm the tower as the bridge would either render their numbers useless or be collapsed. His people responding similar to Clamain’s followers. The loudest of those questioning Alistair were selected as hostages. Meanwhile, Clamain selected his least imposing fighters as they would be the first to fall if negotiations turned sour, as well as Rankys. He also tasked an old friend with watching over the enemy hostages and ensuring that they were not harmed. The two leaders met once again on the bridge, exchanged hostages and returned to Alistair’s personal tent.

“We are going to be joined by one my hostages.” said Clamain, on the way to the negotiation table.

“They are welcome to accompany you, I don’t need a bird chirping in my ear.” said Alistair, taking a jab at the Avvar chieftain. Clamain ignored him and beckoned to Rankys. Rankys broke line of bound hostages and joined Clamain. They walked together and entered the King’s tent. The inside of the tent was minimalistic, there was little besides a few chairs and a bed. Clearly the King kept himself modest. Alistair removed his massive gold armour and changed into an undershirt and tattered trousers. Clamain and Rankys stood, waiting for the King to make the first move.

“I’m glad you decided to talk with me. Pull up a seat.” said the king after changing. Clamain sat across from Alistair while Rankys opted to stand and loom behind Clamain.

“You remind me of someone, except he had white hair and pointed ears.” said Alistair, smiling and looking at Rankys. Clamain and Rankys both remained silent as the god of wisdom spoke to Rankys.

“You speak of Sten of the Beresaad, or rather the Arishok.” responded Rankys.

“How do you know that.” said Alistair. It was not unusual for people to know of his previous companions but he never thought a stranger from the mountain would.

“I know a great many things. Such as that you were here when the Circle fell to blood magic and abominations. You also now question how the Chantry handles magic itself. Am I wrong, bastard?” said Rankys, looking down at the seated king. Alistair leaned back and scoffed at Rankys.

“That’s right. I’m a bastard who helped save his kingdom and now rules it. And as of this current time, you are in my kingdom and have taken my land.” said Alistair, looking to Clamain.

“Kinloch Hold was an Avvar stronghold before the northerners invaded, centuries ago. This land is rightfully ours. As well as we did you a favour, ‘your land’ was under control of bandits when I arrived.” said Clamain, not shrinking to the king’s powerful presence.

“After the annulment of the Circles, you offered sanctuary for the rebel mages in Redcliffe. You believe these mages deserve some freedom then. So you abandoned their prison to the wayside.” chimed in Rankys.

“Yes, I gave sanctuary to the mages, however it was not my decision to leave the Circle untouched. It is of the Bannorn and lesser lords to deal with bandits within their own territory. After the Circle was no longer Chantry property, I gave it to one of the Bannorn lords. The bandits were to be handled by him. Now that it is occupied by a foreign force, it is a matter of the crown.” said Alistair.

“Your Bannorn was unable to handle simple bandits while we were able to eliminate them and establish a hold. I present to you a solution, good king.” said Rankys.

“What do you propose.” said Alistair, beginning to understand that the barbarians were not going to simply leave.

“I put forward that Kinloch Hold remain under control of the Avvar, while becoming a trading post for Ferelden. The tower sits on the Imperial Highway, connecting Southern Ferelden directly to the north. Traveling caravans could set up shop and trade could prosper. Taxes would be paid to the Avvar chieftain, then to the Crown, as of any member of the Bannorn.” said Rankys. Alistair understood what Rankys was truly offering, to legitimize Clamain as a Bannorn lord so that the kingdom would benefit by gold and Clamain could keep the hold.

“What of the army you have held in the tower along with your magics.” said Alistair.

“The Crown could provide protection in these lands, serving to chill hostilities between the nations. They have similar dealing in Nevarra with the dwarves and their ‘Dragon’s Den’. As for the magic, consider this a trial run to see how magic could be handled, you could send sisters to preach of their ways but I recommend keeping templars away.”

Before Alistair could respond, a massive explosion sent the tent flying and all the men to the floor. Rankys looked to the sky after rubbing the mud off his face to see the sky being ripped open. A green wound was being torn across the Veil and demons fell as meteorites. One demon was shooting down towards the camp as a ball of jade terror.

“Maker!” shouted Alistair as he quickly stood to grab his weapon. Clamain cursed under his breath as he seeked something for protection as he and the other Avvar abandoned their arms in the keep. The demon landed where the King sat moments ago. It was a being of pride. Rising from a kneeling position, it revealed its glowing yellow eyes along with a broad chest, covered in jagged spikes. The creature brought its massive hands together and began sending lightning between its talons, strengthening its skin. Soldiers scattered for weapons to protect their liege while Rankys rose from the dirt and faced the demon. It looked to its challenger as he shapeshifted into a gargantuan bear. He felt immensely stronger from the last time he shifted, as if he could crush the world beneath his massive paws. Rankys started charging at the demon, shaking the the very earth as he rampaged forward. He tackled the demon, sending it toppling on its back. Rankys raised onto his hind legs and slammed down onto its chest. Now pinned under the beast, the demon attempted to shove him off itself to no avail. Rankys kept his control firm over the demon as ice seeped from his paws, pinning it to the floor. He descended his maw onto the demon’s head and crunched down. He lashed about for a second then tore the head clean off its body. With the head removed, the rest of the demon crumbled and became a small pile of glowing green sludge. Rankys walked from the demon’s corpse and approached Alistair, who stood steadfast with his sword and shield. When he reached him, Rankys reverted to human form. Listening to the whispering wisdom spirit within his head, he knelt down and bowed his head.

“You of all people know the need for allies in time of great crisis. We pledge our best men to join your personal guard, to aid in any affair the Crown feels suitable.” said Rankys, now looking up to Alistair.

“I accept your offer on the conditions we spoke of before, I will expect the troops you say by the end of the day.” said Alistair, helping Rankys to his feet. 

Clamain then discussed the exact number of troops and who will join the king’s guard. They decided on a force of fifty elite tribesman. The number seemed small but Alistair reminded his advisors of how the army of Ferelden was already low on troops since the Blight and that a group of ten good people and one trusty companion saved the kingdom. Clamain was given the privilege to select the fifty fighters and he returned to the hold. He delivered the good news first, telling the tribe that they can keep the hold. The tribe reacted by cheering and celebrating until he mentioned the caveat of giving the lowlanders soldiers along with paying homage to the King while being under the thumb of his army. Many protested but they were reminded of the precarious situation they were already in and of the lack of other solutions. After all had calmed down, Clamain asked for volunteers to join the King’s army. A few people volunteered, either disgruntled with Clamain or just seeking bloodshed. Off those who were to leave, Leitis, Tom, and Sam were among their numbers. They left the crowd and went to pack their belongings. Rankys grabbed his staff and followed them to their quarters.

“That went well.” said Rankys, announcing his presence to the group. Leitis looked up from her pack and smiled.

“Ya, could’ve gone much worse.” she said.

“Still want to butcher those lowlanders, we have ought to fight them.” replied Sam, running his hand along his blade before sheathing it on his belt.

“Don’t lie to yourself, you’d be felled before the first arrow.” said Tom, playfully punching Sam in the shoulder. Sam responded by tackling Tom. The two rolled around, wrestling on the floor.

“Will you be joining us? Becoming the King’s loyal subjects.” said Leitis, smirking as she said it.

“Join them. The tear in the Veil threatens all of Thedas. Aiding the king is aiding the Thedas.” said the spirit of wisdom within Rankys’ mind.

“I’ll tag along. Nothing better to do.” said Rankys, smiling back.

Tom and Sam finished packing their kits after Tom had pinned Sam in an armlock and was declared the victor. They all went down to the main hall and said goodbyes to everyone. There were heartfelt hugs and discreet tears shed. After some final honeyed words, they joined with the other troops leaving the tribe and waved goodbye as they left Kinloch Hold.


End file.
